


Rare is this Love; Keep it Covered aka California King

by loupmalin



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupmalin/pseuds/loupmalin
Summary: Rajalagang introspection/meta/fluff. Rajan’s POV.





	Rare is this Love; Keep it Covered aka California King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abovethesmokestacks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovethesmokestacks/gifts).



> I know this ship is controversial for some people; I tried to write what I would have liked to see to help develop things a little more before the wedding scene. This is unbeta'd - please forgive any continuity errors!
> 
> Jean-Pierre’s villa was originally set in a town in the Ile de France region, but I like Provence, so I changed it. 
> 
> This little ditty was written for abovethesmokestacks' birthday, based on a conversation we had after the end of the finale. Happy birthday, sweetie!

They were alive. It defied reason, defied statistical probability, but somehow, they limped back to Jean-Pierre’s villa after Naples, battered and beaten, but still grateful, relieved, and whole. The cluster and their extended family spent two weeks in the Provençal countryside. Everyone, sensate and sapien alike, agreed unanimously that they all needed - deserved - time to heal and to begin to understand this new reality. Nomi and Amanita worked around the clock on their wedding plans, only surfacing in the evenings for dinner, looking increasingly harried and blissful as their nuptials approached.

*******

It was disorienting to try to understand how Kala and her cluster related to one another, to wrap his mind around the idea of this new family that he had joined. Rajan was happy to have the time to process it all, especially when it came to Wolfgang. Everything he had ever learned told him that he should be be angry, outraged. If anyone back in Mumbai knew the shifts that had taken place in his life, in his marriage, in these last few weeks, they wouldn’t bat an eye if he were to smash a few of the beautiful, expensive glasses in the beautiful, expensive cupboards. Would think it totally normal if he decided to slam doors and scream himself hoarse.

But his heart didn’t want that. Kala, his Kala, glorious, headstrong woman that she was… was in love. It was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen. Her smile, beaming to the sky and back as Wolfgang’s arm draped across her shoulder, intoxicated him. He couldn’t find anger in the cocktail of emotions that stirred in his heart - there was no room for it when his wife still lived and breathed. No one else had watched the life drain from her face, they hadn’t felt the panic rise from his gut at the thought of her being stolen from the world. No one except Wolfgang knew how close they had come.

He watched them from as many angles as he could find excuses for, jealousy a small flame in his stomach. It would be ridiculous to deny that he was jealous. But he would not tend that flame, would not feed it with the vitriol everyone seemed to expect from him. He knew what they thought an Indian husband would do. But even these well-intentioned new friends didn’t really know him, didn’t know how little regard he had for useless traditions and taboos. He could not see a version of reality in which raging and screaming would help anything. How would that make Kala happy? How could a spectacle like that demonstrate how much he loved her?

No.

He would meet love with love.

Still. He had so many questions. Was it the sense of danger that seemed to hang in the air around Wolfgang? As though anything could happen at any moment? Was it his wardrobe, Rajan wondered, considering wryly whether he should trade out his tailored shirts and slacks for something more… torn? But the more he observed, the easier it was to noticed that it was the quieter moments in Wolfgang’s company in which Kala really shone. The moments in which he murmured to her, asking for her thoughts on various elements of the sprawling country estate in which they were guests, listening intently as she turned her scientist’s focus to the topic at hand, were the ones that held their own special beauty. They seemed to delight in the physical proximity to one another, flowers turning their faces to the sunlight.

He needed to spend time with Wolfgang, wanted to get to know the man that Kala loved so much (more than she loved him, a small voice hissed in the back of Rajan’s mind, but he corrected the voice patiently each time, as he would correct a petulant child: not more, just differently).

Rajan asked Wolfgang to go for a walk one morning, before most of the other guests were awake. Sun was next to the pool, practicing. She could be trusted to be silent, Rajan suspected. She nodded at them, never stopping the flow of her movements, though her sharp gaze lingered on them until they rounded the corner, following the dewy garden path. They ambled through the small vineyard next to the house, and then into the lavender field beyond. Neither man spoke until all they could see and smell were the fragrant purple plants stretching toward the sky, line after line.

“If you’ve brought me out here to kill me,” Wolfgang threatened, though his face was serene, chin lifted in defiance. “I hope you have backup.”

Rajan shook his head, needing to replay the other man’s words before barking out a laugh.

“Kill you?” He chuckled, the nervous knot in his gut easing a bit. “What kind of idiot would I be to try to kill you, Wolfgang? If I were to kill you, to even try… I would be ruining my own life.” Wolfgang was silent, blinking slowly at him once in reply as the sun slid out from behind a passing cloud. “I asked you to take a walk with me… well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure why exactly at first. But I would like to talk about the thing that none of us seem to want to discuss.”

A muscle in Wolfgang’s jaw twitched, and he kicked at an imaginary clump of dirt, digging his toe in before looking back at Rajan. “Go on then. Say it.”

“No, no, no. You misunderstand me, please.” Rajan gestured for them to keep walking. After a beat, the German joined him, hands shoved into his pockets. “Kala loves you, you love Kala. And I love Kala. I know this is not…” he hesitated. Not normal? Nothing about his life since leaving Mumbai had been normal, so that frame of reference was already useless. Not what was expected of him? That was an understatement, at best. “I know that what I’m about to say might be surprising, but I am not asking you to end your relationship with my wife.” There, he had said it. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

“So what do you want, then?”

“I need to ask you for something selfish. A favour. Kala would be angry with me if she knew I was asking you this. Will be angry with me,” he corrected himself, realising that there was little likelihood of Wolfgang not sharing this conversation with their shared love. He took the other man’s silence as an invitation to continue, so he did. “Please, Wolfgang. Please don’t ever hurt her.”

“I would never.” The reply was immediate and sure, though Wolfgang’s added “I promise” was softer.

“All is want is for Kala to be happy.”

“That’s what I want, too.”

Rajan cleared his throat, nodding. “Good. Thank you.”

Wolfgang regarded him with an impish grin. “Is that all you wanted to ask me?” The question lingered, suspended in air that was heavier now than it had been a second ago. His expression was unreadable to Rajan. Something was changing, in him, in Wolfgang, probably in Kala, too. He could feel it happening, the shift from salt water to sweet, and decided to see where the tide took him.

“Yes, that’s really it.” He nodded again, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his suddenly-damp brow.

Wolfgang frowned, shrugging as he turned his gaze back toward the villa. “She wants to know if we’re done fighting.”

“She’s here?” Rajan knew it was useless to try to see her. He squinted anyway. “Kala, it’s not like that.”

The German didn’t reply, but turned and walked back down the line of grapevines. “I’m starving!”

*******

That night, Kala had barely closed the door to their bedroom before she rounded on Rajan.

“So, you had a man-to-man talk with Wolfgang.” She raised her gaze to meet her husband’s, a tiny line appearing between her brows; he looked forward to seeing that line deepen over the years. If Rajan hadn’t suspected that she was as nervous about the content of their conversation as she was annoyed by it, he would have laughed and pulled her close at this thought.

“It was just a talk, Kala. I’d like to get to know him better.” Rajan ran his hand down her arm.

“Why didn’t you talk to me first? I’m your wife!” Her voice was sharp but her teeth worried at her lower lip as she crossed her arms.

He had thought about this, who to speak with first and why. “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t intend for you to feel left out. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I feel as though sometimes you have been afraid to tell me things. I thought that talking to him first would be better; I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry about what?” She shook her head and sat at the edge of the bed.

“Kala, are you going to leave me for Wolfgang?”

“No!” Whatever insecurities still lingered in the dark corners of his mind were banished by the shocked honesty of her reply. Kala jumped up, pacing. “No, Rajan, I don’t want to leave you. I promise. I love you, and I made vows to you and our families and Ganesha to spend my life with you. You have accepted everything that has happened to you in the last two years with such… such grace. But,” she stopped, dropping her hands to her sides.

“But it’s complicated. I know.” Rajan drew his wife to him, wrapping his arms around her. “I understand, Kala. And whatever I don’t understand, I’m trying to.” She sighed against him, hiding her face in his nightshirt. “I know that you love Wolfgang. It’s okay.”

“What?” She pulled back and stared at him, mouth agape.

“When we went walking this morning, I wasn’t asking him to end your relationship. I just wanted to clear the air.”

Kala blinked once, and then again. “So… you’re okay with me cheating on you?” She narrowed her eyes, leaning back to study his face.

“It’s only cheating if it’s a secret, if you two are sneaking around and hiding things from me. If I’m aware of your relationship and comfortable with it, then it’s just our life, isn’t it?”

She shook her head and sat again on the bed. “I don’t know what to say, Rajan. I…” she trailed off. “Thank you.” She kissed him, her lips soft and sweet against his.

“Kala, I keep trying to tell you: I love you. I want you to be happy, forever. I’d prefer to be part of that happiness. If that means that you love two men, I can live with that.”

She was silent for a moment, and Rajan decided that he didn’t need to know if she was speaking to Wolfgang, though he assumed that she was. Without warning, Kala launched herself into his arms. “I married a good, good man!” She laughed, peppering his face with kisses.

He could absolutely live with this.

*******

As strange as it might have seemed to anyone watching from the outside, life with the sensates invited him to re-imagine things. The more time they spent in France, the more Rajan realised that he was most comfortable in the company of his wife’s lover. The two men fell into a rhythm of swimming laps together in the afternoons while Kala napped in the sun or read nearby, often joined by Daniela, Lito, and Amanita. It was equal parts companionship and good-natured competition, an easy way to spend time together without too much talking. All of the other sensates, and the their entourage, as he liked to call himself and the rest of the group, were friendly and welcoming, but it was Wolfgang to whom he found himself drawn, always aware of the other man’s presence as the wended in and out of one another's company through each day.

It wasn’t making lemonade out of lemons; Rajan genuinely liked Wolfgang. The other man was smart and funny, and seemed to know a little bit about everything, no matter what topic they discussed. Time with the cluster seemed to bring about a change in Wolfgang. Each day, he was more relaxed, more at ease, more affectionate with all of the villa’s temporary residents. It was fascinating to talk to the German, especially when the other man seemed to delight in using his and Kala’s native Hindi. And there was plenty of wine and food to keep conversations flowing until the wee hours each night. Once or twice, Kala yawned pointedly before giving up and going to bed alone, leaving both men to wonder whose room she would be found in that night.

Waking up next to a sleep-rumpled Kala each morning was one of the greatest pleasures in life. He mentioned this to Wolfgang one night as he opened another bottle of Côtes du Rhone. They would leave the next day to return to Paris, back to the squat that would now become wedding central in the absence of life-threatening danger. The other man nodded enthusiastically, holding his glass out toward Rajan’s outstretched arm.

“And when she’s not quite awake yet, and her hair is everywhere…” Wolfgang mused, eyes softening.

“Exactly,” Rajan agreed, drinking deeply from his glass. “It’s the only thing that makes me truly jealous, when she spends the night with you,” he admitted. “What?” Wolfgang had been silent for a few moments, staring at Rajan.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, staring into his glass and following Rajan’s example. “This is good wine.”

“It is,” Rajan agreed. “Jean-Pierre is a generous host. I’m grateful to him for letting us all stay here.”

They were quiet for a few more moments, both lost in thought.

“I’m sorry that Felix had to go back to Berlin so quickly,” Rajan observed. “It must be difficult to be so far from him.”

“Yeah. I do miss him. It’s probably for the best though. I think all of this might be a little too much for him to take in all at once,” Wolfgang replied, waving his free hand to describe the entire sensate experience. “I can explain it more to him when I go home.” He frowned a little at this, seeming to share Rajan’s reluctance to talk about the moment at which they would all inevitably part ways.

“You can come to Mumbai whenever you want,” he offered. “And Kala will go to Berlin, too. We’ll make this work for everyone.”

Wolfgang only nodded, staring at the shelves of books that lined the library. “So much has changed in the last two years,” he muttered. “It’s hard to believe that this is who I’ve become.”

“People have always reinvented themselves as they live their lives. It’s what we do as humans,” Rajan replied. “I don't think you could share the thoughts and experiences of seven other people and come out of it unchanged.”

They were quiet again, the only sounds in the house the chiming of the hour. Two o’clock.

“Shit.” Wolfgang drained his glass in reply, standing on unsteady feet. “I’m going to go find out where Kala decided to sleep.” Rajan mirrored the other man’s action, stretching his back in a series of pops and cracks. He should have gone to bed when Kala left, he thought, chiding himself in advance of the hangover that would do a better job of it by double the next morning as they packed. Without warning, Wolfgang pulled him into a one armed embrace, clapping his hand around Rajan’s neck and kissing his face, lingering. The effect was immediate, the room suddenly close, a moment suspended between the two of them that stretched, unending, until the other man stepped away, yawning.

“You know, we could just both wake up next to her every morning,” Wolfgang mentioned, turning to lean against the doorframe. “Americans make gigantic beds.”


End file.
